


Thorned

by Emile



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: A rocky start, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brand is Isabela's second in command from the comics, Different languages, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Soul Mate AU, That one character everyone forgets about, a hawke sibling oc, more tags will most probably be add along the way, one big i-did-not-die surprise, the Danarius/Fenris is one-sided from Danarius side and highly abusive, though i can promise you that no one who dies in-writing will come back to life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emile/pseuds/Emile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elves are born with plants growing along with them on their skin, formed by environment and condition. It is told that flowers will bloom when you meet your soul mate, but the only flower that had grown on his skin was surrounded by thorns and Fenris had lost hope any remaining buds would ever get the chance to bloom.</p><p>Originally started for <a href="http://havesomegin.tumblr.com/post/140541760663/teamblueandangry-fenhanders-week-2016-march">Fenhanders Week</a>, but the idea ran away from me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anthurium

**Author's Note:**

> Won't actually involve Hawke (nor Anders) until the fourth chapter. The ones before simply explain how he eventually ends up with them and sets the setting. A lot of language barriers in the first chapters, too. Translations, where needed, are add as end note.
> 
> Follows most of the happenings of Dragon Age, but starts separating itself from the story the further you're in.

The first thing he had woken up to was the iron-y taste of blood and... something else. It made his tongue tingle and his eyes water. Fenris felt  _his_ name leaving his lips and looked up at the man, reaching out desperately. That's when the pain set in, creeping up his arm, its hold tightened and threatened to tear him apart. He clutched his arm closer to himself, watching in horror as his own very nature turned against him. The carefully grown markings had gained thorns and spread further along his body, but it suddenly grew too fast and out of his control. Fenris called out his name again, desperately.

Danarius.

He woke up from his nightmare, the same name ripping from his lips, gasping for air and smothered any other sounds that might escape him with the palm of his hand. Tears were freely escaping his eyes.

“Fenris?” he seemed startled, hadn't heard the body next to him shift, but those same piercing blue eyes were looking up at him now once again, less than amused “Come back to me.”

And he did.

 

They were on their way back to the Tevinter Imperium when the carriage they were in came to a shuddering halt, his hand flew to the hilt of his sword as soon as commotion started outside. Fenris was ready to go as soon as his Master command him to. He didn't remember much from the fight that followed, only harsh blows that were meant to kill and seeing the carriage leave without him. He wasn't even entirely sure if he had really shout his name or it had just been an echo in his mind. It didn't seem to matter back when he was bleeding dry on the rocky sand.

 

Fenris didn't expect to ever open his eyes again, but once he did, his gaze was met with the gray eyes of a beautiful woman, big and regal, with broken horns on the top of her head. Her eyes were warm and kind, lips twisted up just slightly. There were puncture scars around her lips, and thick scars around her wrists and neck. A lot of her scars seemed to mirror his.

He swallowed thickly and pressed himself up to a sitting position, pleasantly surprised to find himself without broken bones and aching limbs, only tension. Fenris languidly stretched his arms and arched his back, trying to warm stiff muscles while those gray eyes looked him up and down.

She wordlessly gestured to the markings along his arms and Fenris looked at them for a moment. “Oh...” he figured she wouldn't know what they were, “Can you understand me?” she shook her head no “Loquerisne Tevene? Avvar, maybe... Bin-- Binne jo Avvar?” he tried, but she only seemed puzzled and simply shook her head again. It was hard for her to understand what the tiny creature wanted, but it was obviously trying its best to communicate.

The woman gestured to his markings again, then clumsily rolled up her sleeve with thick and scarred fingers, allowing her fingertips to trace over her own. Fenris released a breathless gasp and inched closer to look at them. Beautiful plants swirling around her arm, some buds in full bloom, but a lot had already withered.

“But you are no elf.” he tried, then point at his ear intently when she didn't seem to understand. She reached out to gently touch it, pulling back when she saw Fenris flinch. She send an apologetic smile before touching her own ear after. “You mean to say that... we are the same?” Fenris asked once he regained his bearings “Are all Qunari the same?”

Again with those strange words... the young woman snorted without sound, simply a rush of air leaving through her somewhat flat nose. Fenris could hear it though and send her a tentative smile.

She curiously inched closer to him, lifting her hand to show her arm in their field of vision. One of the still closed buds was slowly starting to open, standing out brightly. Red, open, a form resembling a heart. Fenris traced it with his fingertips, instinctively knowing “Anthurium.”

He raised his own arm now, hesitantly making it touch hers. Through all the thorns and scars, he could see one bloom for him, too.

 

Fenris had spend about two days recovering in the tent, getting to know the Qunari woman without being able to use many words. She seemed to be trying to keep people out until she had figured out what he was doing there herself. He had tried to explain what exactly was going on, but words she didn't understand and gestures only brought him so far.

First step he took outside, he noticed two men arguing with the woman, who replied with aggravated hand movements. Only one of them was an ox-man, the other seemingly human. Fenris instinctively kept his head ducked under his gaze, but did approach. Words were said, words he couldn't understand until a question was asked. The last word had been 'Tevinter', though.

When Fenris glanced towards the woman and she gave a subtle shake of her head, he looked back at the ox-man and mirrored her gesture “Ik bin Avvar.” he lied, hoping his badly accented Avvar would do. The human glanced at him suspiciously from the corner of his eyes, but seemed to give the other man comforting words, then gestured Fenris to follow. He didn't until the woman gave him an encouraging push.

“Myn namme is Bjørg,” the man introduced himself as Bjørg, offering a hand that Fenris took with mild surprise “Ik bin in echte Avvar.” the hand was let go like hot iron and the elf raised his hands in defense.

Bjørg laughed and gave a shake of his head “Gjin noed, Hissera fertrout dy, sa ik ek.” Fenris curiously cocked his head, not familiar enough with the language to follow every word, but at least Bjørg seemed to trust him.

Fenris looked back at the tall Qunari woman, gesturing to her with a nod “Hissera har namme?” he tried, feeling a tad proud of himself when Bjørg offered a nod of confirmation. So her name was Hissera. He thought it sound pretty, but later he would figure out that it meant so much more.

“Sy ropt dy Lytse.” Bjørg told him, teasing him for his small and slender figure, but Fenris didn't mind. This was the first time he had ever been talked to nicely by any human, so he wasn't going to risk changing that. “As jo net mind dan bliuwe ik dy Lytse namme.”

Fenris, now apparently 'Lytse' simply nod and followed.

 

Learning languages was easy when your life depend on it, Fenris had figured that out, and having Hissera by his side made it even easier. Fenris loved her. Not in the way one would love a lover, nor in the way he loved his Master, but in the way he had always dreamed having a family would feel.

Most of the small group of Fog Warriors were gradually becoming important.

Bjørg was a never ending source of amusement: finding action and adventure everywhere he looked, and seemed to enjoy dragging 'their Lytse' along with him for some reason. So far he hadn't told anyone about the lie of his origins yet, so Fenris had nothing to complain.

The male Qunari was called Asaara and didn't talk much, looking at everyone except Hissera with a big amount of suspicion. Fenris trust he was a good person though, no mater how much he glowered. Because above all, he was providing them food and safety with everything he had.

Fenris had been able to impress them with his quick wit and surprising strength. He found his place among them and they taught him about freedom and fighting for it. They allowed him to grow into his own being instead of what Danarius had made of him and one day Fenris was planning to sit down with his new found family and tell them the truth about where he came from.

 

The peace didn't last long, or at least not long enough by far, as Asaara one day came hurrying to their side with a warning he couldn't understand on his tongue. But the reaction is pulled from his fellow warriors were enough to bring Fenris on edge. He rest back on his heel, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword as Hissera gathered the vials that would cause the fog they would hide in.

“Jo moatte efter ús ûnderdak sykje!” Bjørg warned him, stretching his hand behind him to push Fenris back by his chest. The action pulled a distraught “Wêrom?” from his lips in protest. “Omdat sy slavers binne!”

Fenris stumbled back in surprise. Slavers? But how had they found him? And how had Bjørg known he was- All thoughts were cut off when the first arrow cut through the air and nearly hit Hissera's shoulder. She ducked, rolling back with surprising flexibility, and threw a vial. It shattered against the forest floor and caused fog to appear.

He could hear his own breathing, his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears, as he pulled out his sword and took a fighting stance. Fenris wouldn't run away anymore. Asaara, Hissera and Bjørg had all but disappeared into the fog surrounding them, but he knew they were there. There were sounds of battle around him, short and swift, grunts on impact and gurgling as they were impaled by his friend's weapons.

Fenris turned sharply on his heal, ducking as someone tried to grab him and swinging his great sword up to cut clean through his enemy. There was a fountain of red and Fenris stepped back in disgust when the lukewarm fluid land on him, though he didn't have much time to recover.

The fight continued for about six long and uncertain minutes, but as the fog finally seemed to lift, he was relieved to see at least Hissera safe. Every relief fell when he heard familiar tutting coming from a carriage not far away and soon saw those piercing blue eyes meeting his.

 

“Danarius...” he breathe, his hand flexing, then tightening around his weapon, but before he could take action, the three Fog Warriors had taken a stance between them.

 

“Wy sille him net oan dy ferlieze!”

They wouldn't give him up to Danarius. Not their friend. Not their Lytse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Anthurium' is a flower that symbolizes hospitality and are known for being long-lasting and irresistibly beautiful.  
> 'Lytse' is a somewhat of a sweet word for little/small/tiny.
> 
> 'Loquerisne Tevene?' - 'Do you speak Tevene?'  
> 'Binne jo Avvar?' - 'Are you Avvar?'  
> 'Ik bin Avvar.' - 'I am Avvar.'  
> 'Myn namme is Bjørg.' - 'My name is Bjørg.'  
> 'Ik bin in echte Avvar.' - 'I am a real Avvar.'  
> 'Gjin noed, Hissera fertrout dy, sa ik ek.' - 'Don't worry, if Hissera trusts you, then so do I.'  
> 'Hissera har namme?' - 'Hissera her name?' (wrong gramattica)  
> 'Sy ropt dy Lytse.' - 'She calls you little.'  
> 'As jo net mind dan bliuwe ik dy Lytse namme.' - 'If you don't mind, I will keep calling you Lytse.'  
> 'Jo moatte efter ús ûnderdak sykje!' - 'You should hide behind us!'  
> 'Wêrom?' - 'Why?'  
> 'Omdat sy slavers binne!' - 'Because they are slavers!'  
> 'Wy sille him net oan dy ferlieze!' - 'We will not lose him to you!'


	2. A slave does not dream of freedom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Fenris find the strength to stand up to his Master, or will he succumb to his demands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What better way to celebrate April Fools than with a good dose of angst? Action scenes are so hard to write, too. But I hope you'll enjoy!

Their eyes met just above Bjørg's square shoulder and he felt like he couldn't move. It had been so long that he had almost forgot the pull he felt when looking into those blue eyes. Danarius looked angry though, almost devious, his teeth grit and magic causing static in the air. He should have known this was not freedom, no matter how much distance had been between him and his Master, Fenris was still just a slave.

The world moved around them, Hissera threw her fog bomb and Bjørg shot forward, but his Avvar great-axe was easily deflected by a shield of energy. He staggered back on impact and released an angry howl before disappearing back into the thick fog escaping around them.

Fenris couldn't move, stuck to the forest floor like he had sprouted roots. And then he felt a sudden surge pulling at his body. His markings start glowing involuntarily and the shout of pain ripping from his lips raised above the battle cries and clashing of weapon against barrier around him.

Danarius still hadn't attacked, but his hand was raised and Asaara was the first to realise that whatever he did was the cause Fenris was in pain. Flashes of light came from where Fenris was and they flocked towards it without a second thought, ready to help him.

He had crumbled to his knees, clutching his arm to his chest and hissing in pain. It felt like his nightmares, something tugging and pulling at his markings and the lyrium ingrained in them. They flashed, pulsed and grew. They tugged at every fiber of his body.

 

Hissera released a distressed sound through her flat nose as she finally reached his side, hesitantly reaching to touch him. The markings weren't supposed to move unless a bud bloomed, but these... they moved, they swirled angrily and seemed to try moving out of his skin. She didn't dare to touch them, especially not with how Fenris pulled away from her like any touch would set him on fire. Danarius simply looked at the spectical, not paying attention to his blind spot on the left.

Bjørg lashed out at him from that blind spot and cut clean through the tips of three of the outstretched fingers. The Magister released a startled scream, pulling back his hand and involuntarily releasing Fenris from the spell. “Nea ferlieze each fan jim fijân, juggler.”

The elf slunk forward and tried to regain control of his own body again, but it had remind him of exactly how much power Danarius held over him. Just raising his hand had been able to reduce him to this. Fenris moved away from Hissera's touch again, but she stayed close, her eyes calculating as she tried to think of a way out.

Danarius moved his mangled hand, the blood hanging mid air before exploding towards the foolish Avvar man in what would feel like countless needles piercing his skin. Asaara released a battle cry when he saw his friend fall, but by the time he reached the magister, he had already burned his fingertips closed with the heat of his magic and lift a barrier of magic again.

 

The Magister smirked at overlooking his enemies and shook his head. They had been amusing enough, but had also made his well trained slave to... misbehave. He couldn't have that. “Tell me, little wolf, why are you still there and not protecting me by my side?” Danarius scold him as if talking to an insolent child “I have taught you better than this.”

Fenris froze, every muscle tensing at the hidden command. He inhaled sharply and had trouble swallowing. Common tongue. Danarius hoped the Fog Warriors would hear it. And though Bjørg and Hissera simply looked at him questioningly, Asaara was growling at Danarius and throwing curses in Qunlat as if he could understand every word he had said. Which should be worrying, but Fenris couldn't find himself to concentrate on anything other than the pulsing through his markings. The outcome of the situation felt inevitable, no matter how hard he would try to resist.

A slave does not dream of freedom... just his Master's desires.

 

They had never seen it coming, not Fenris steadily raising to his feet and lifting his arms, nor the sudden jolt of lyrium blasting from his body. Hissera was pushed back by the sheer power of it, hands scrambling at the muddy floor in a try to regain grip. He could barely register his own actions, let alone his own thoughts, only hearing his Master's voice.

“Come back to me.” he spoke, the words echoing through his mind and body.

Fenris felt the markings charging with lyrium, moving and tearing apart from his skin. He grit his teeth not to scream as the plants grew and came out as lyrium whips. Fenris didn't apologize when he charged up to Asaara from behind and cut his arm through his body with ease, but he did feel sorry when his lifeless head rolled away from his body.

Bjørg was already bleeding to death, killing him had been merciful. But Hissera... how she was backing up from him, shaking her head in disbelief. Her words, though not spoken out loud, were even louder than Danarius'.

He fought back the power of his markings, a red rash staying behind where they shrunk back into his body. Hissera couldn't help reaching out to touch them, looking at him almost apologetically. Fenris couldn't understand... how could she still be so kind after she had seen him slaughter her friends? The answer was hidden in her eyes.

She knew she would follow shortly.

 

“I'm so sorry,” Fenris whispered, holding her face between his hands “I tried to be a free man, but I can't-” Danarius was impatiently waiting, just now noticing a new bright red somewhere between the shades of blue and gray on Fenris' skin.

He was about to call out, to command Fenris to kill her, when the Qunari part her lips. Hissera hadn't used her voice in years, it was shaky and barely audible, but that one word was all Fenris needed to hear.

She smiled and Fenris gave a nod, stepping back to let her go. Hissera seemed like she was going to say something else, or maybe follow him, but a bolt of electricity flew passed him the moment he had let go of her. A dull thud resound from her heavy weight falling to the forest floor and Fenris felt a hollow sensation he had never felt before.

She was dying. It was dying. Dying. The flower... a part of him. Dead.

Fenris didn't dare to look down, but he also didn't dare to look back at Danarius, knowing he would go back to him as soon as their eyes met. Instead he made a sharp turn to the left and ran. He ran as fast as he could and as far as his legs could carry him.

 

He had been running for days, only stopping to gather and eat fruits to survive, and finally found a ship not being under surveillance by Danarius' men. “Do you even realize where this ship is going to?” the captain asked, clicking her tongue against her palate. Fenris didn't look up from the floor between them.

“I don't care,” he answered numbly, feeling strange talking in common tongue again “Anywhere but here.”

The woman, Isabela, turned around with a sway in her hip, making a wide hand gesture towards her second in command. A blond elf. “Brand!” she called “Give our guest some work so he can pay in labor, then return to me. I require your... services.”

Brand smiled fondly, giving her a wave of his hand, then turned back to Fenris with a more serious expression. His face was angular, with cheekbones as sharp as the knifes he used in battle, yet his eyes wore more warmth than seemed possible.

Fenris still had no idea where they were going, but he hoped it would be far away from Danarius. He remembered Hissera's first and last word to him and clung on to them like a vice.

 _**Hedan.  
** _ _Run._

He would keep running until he was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure if 'hedan' truly means 'run', but after dissecting some Qunlat words, it seemed to make at least a little sense.  
> Also, the mockery Bjørg uses (“Nea ferlieze each fan jim fijân, juggler.”) literally means 'Don't lose sight of your enemy, juggler.' but in this sentence the word juggler also means a fraud magician.


	3. Brand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how Fenris tries to keep his distance, he can't help but get attached to Brand.

_He stood in the doorway, watching, his hands shaking. His Master, murdered in front of him. Brand knew he should reach for his knife, but something stopped him. Something familiar in the sound of her ragged breathing, not of pleasure but of effort this time. His steps felt heavy as he walked passed her, not daring to look, though he already knew who the murderer was. He sank to his knees next to his body and cried._

“ _What did you do?” he had sobbed, repeating those words over and over. He held Luis' hand, clutching it close and resting his forehead against his cold knuckles. “Wake up, please... please... wake up.”_

_Isabela hadn't known what to say for a moment, then swallowed thickly “Brand,” she snapped him out of it “You can either stay here and wallow in self-pity until some other 'Master' will take your hand, or you come with me. It's your choice.”_

 

It was a steady climb up the mast to get to the crow's nest, but Brand welcomed the strain of his muscles, loved how the wind seemed to pick up the higher he climbed. It combed through his unruly blond hair and he let out an airy laugh as he reached out to the last hand held. He pulled himself up with ease and was about to flop himself onto the wooden surface when he noticed something shift in the corner of his eyes.

Brand breathe a soft  _“Oh...”_ as his gray eyes focused on the newest addition to their crew sitting curled up on himself pitifully, his arms clutched around his pulled up legs and white hair fanned out over his knees. He surely hadn't expected to find their stowaway, well... stowed away, there. Brand would quietly chuckle at that thought later, but not now, not as he struggled to resist the urge to touch it. Brand clutched onto the wooden ledge surrounding the nest and looked over the crew down the ship. They looked like nothing more than dots from here “Its... hard to imagine the world below us actually  _exists_ from here.”

There was a shift behind him, making clear the stowaway had become aware of his presence. Fenris had scrambled to his feet in distress and knocked himself back against the wood furthest away from Brand. “I didn't- What are you doing up here at this time?” he asked lamely, trying to hide his distress.

“This,” he gestured around, noticing all too well how Fenris compliantly followed the gesture with his gaze, the white-haired elf froze when he noticed the bedding pillowed up close to him “Is your home.” he concluded with held breath “I didn't know.”

Brand shrugged in response “It's better than nothing.” The statement, harsh and true as it was, had them both fall silent for a moment.

Brand enjoyed the silence, closing his eyes and concentrating on the gushes of wind flowing around them. After a while, Fenris hesitantly walked up and leaned against the wood just a few steps away from him.

Fenris swallowed thickly, slightly pursing his lips in annoyance. This shouldn't be as hard, he thought, making himself clear had never been this hard among the Fog Warriors. And they hadn't even been able to speak his language!

“Isabela didn't seem to have a problem welcoming you in her cabin when you was of service.” it was a bold statement and Fenris steadied himself to prepare for punishment. Instead, the older elf simply looked at him questioningly, expecting there to be more. “Are you- Is she-” Fenris inhaled sharply “Is she your Mistress?”

Brand laughed half-heartedly “In a way, yes,” he admit, glancing at him with an unexpectedly warm and wide smile that made Fenris' heart ache “But I am not her slave.”

The expression remind him of Bjørg, even though nothing else about Brand was like the Avvar warrior. About the way he had looked at Hissera with the same fondness. They all had looked that way at each other, like a family, or actually closer than that. And he realized that the beautiful flower growing along Brand's shoulder was for the captain of the ship herself.

Fenris caught himself scratching at the shriveled patch of skin where the Anthurium used to grow.

“I would love to spend all nights with her, but... I don't like confined spaces.” he admit, dropping his arms for a more open look “Most of us don't.” Brand was aware that they both came from a position of slavery, from caged and chains. That wasn't something you could just shake off, even though they were both free now. The story was wordlessly shared between them as they met eyes in that moment. 

He gave a nod to the deck below “I have seen you phasing about down there on most nights,” Brand admit, taking in the way Fenris tensed just like he had the first time he spoke to him, as if expecting punishment. That was something they would need to work out of him.

“If that happens again, feel free to come up here.” he offered, then smirked “To do... _whatever_.” he add with a playful wink. Fenris tensed, then flushed “I think I might.” he hummed, then soon add “ _Will._ Thank you.”

 

They spend a lot of their nights together in the crow's nest, neither of them sleeping, and watching the stars. Fenris told stories about the fog warriors and asked questions about how to live with the freedom he ha been given, while Brand answered those questions as well as he could and told Fenris about the sea and the adventures it harbored.

 

One night Brand asked him about his markings “They don't look like most other markings I have seen.” he had admit, giving a pointed nod, and it took Fenris a while to realize the meaning of those words.

“Others?” he asked, and Brand had never known someone with such a monotonous voice could sound so giddy, but Fenris managed to do it “You have seen other elves? How many?”

Brand chuckled “It's-- Been a while, but it was back when Isabela and I--” and he suddenly stopped, his expression becoming surprisingly grim as he shook his head so subtly that Fenris wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been looking straight at him “It's been a while.”

Fenris was too afraid for rejection to press the matter and wrapped an arm around his knee, his other leg dangling off the edge of the nest. He looked at the sky, then pointed up, changing the subject to one he knew they would both enjoy. “And what does that one mean?”

“In your homeland, it is called Fenrir, which is... kind of close to your name.” he explained, relaxing again with the change of subject “But actually, they stole it from the elves. As they did with most things. The creators painted a wolf in the sky with never dying stars in a try to appease the Trickster God, Fen'Harel.”

Fenris hummed, looking up with genuine interest.

“I wonder if it worked.”

 

Their stowaway had been successfully kept out of most pirating affairs, shoved back below decks as soon as canons were fired. Fenris braced himself, like he always did, but scurried towards the door his sword hid behind as soon as enemies entered their ship. There was no way he would let anyone fight for his sake again. He rattled the door handle when the door wouldn't give, growling in frustration when he noticed it was locked. Voices grew louder top-deck and he could destinctly make out Brand's voice close to the stair down.

He yanked the door off it's hinges in panic when he heard Isabela cry out “Brand!” above him, reaching his sword in a matter of seconds and hurrying to the stairs. He slammed his shoulder against the door up when it wouldn't give, unaware of the thug standing on top of it.

The man stumbled back and fell onto Isabela's knife, and she angrily twist it for the blow he had land on her second in command. Fenris stood his ground and defend Brand in the heated fight that continued, fighting back the urge to use his lyrium markings in battle. The battle quieted down once the last of the opposing men was thrown overboard and, while Isabela send out the crew to loot the enemy ship, she and Fenris stayed behind to look over Brand.

Fenris knelt next to him, checking his vitals “He's still alive,” he sighed in relief, feeling the rising and falling of his chest against the palm of his hand. There was also no extensive breathing and he watched Isabela gently run her hands along his scalp, feeling for injury. She found a big bump at the back of his head. “Seems like he got knocked out from behind.”

“That little shit...” Isabela add “I thought I lost him.”

Brand slowly cracked open an eye “Of course that couldn't happen, Princess,” he teased groggily “Who else would be left to clean your feet?” Isabela cursed loudly and let go of his head. Brand groaned as it hit the wooden flooring, but it was followed by an amused chuckle. “I knew you loved me.”

In response, Isabela 'playfully' hit the side of his head with the heel of her boot. Brand only laughed louder in reply. Honestly, Fenris would never understand them.

 

“Where are we heading?” he finally asked, yearning for land underneath his feet after their hectic weeks at sea. No matter how 'beautiful' and 'adventurous' Brand seemed to think the life at sea was, Fenris couldn't get used to it.

Brand leaned onto the railing next to him, looking over the waters, he took his binocular to get sight of the land they were nearing. With a soft curse, he handed Fenris the binocular to see for himself, then pushed off to have a word with Isabela. The loud conversation transpiring between the two barely got through to him as his eye focused on the city in sight.

 

Kirkwall. The city of chains.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the crew was kept purposefully unnamed to show Fenris' lack of bond with them. Also... yay! They are _finally_ nearing Kirkwall. And thus, Hawke! ~~Also some hidden hints to far-off chapters.~~


	4. A new direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As one door closes, another one opens.

He staggered back, dropping the binocular to the wooden floor, actually needing a moment to catch his breath. Fenris made a sharp turn towards the captain, walking in a straight line without slowing, like a druffalo ready to ram. Brand got in between them in a try to protect Isabela and got pressed against the wall instead.

Brand struggled against his grip, eyes widening as Fenris' strange markings started to glow and move, coming apart from his body. “W-Wait, Fen--!”

“You will _not_ hand me back.”

The elf pressed between him and the wall gasped for air and tried to reach for his knifes in panic, but Fenris grasped his wrist and made his markings tangle and pierce his skin. Only pained huffs left Brand, too proud to cry out. But in Fenris' anger, and Brand's panic, they had both forgotten about Isabela. She had moved swift and quiet, slamming the hilt against Fenris' temple sudden and hard enough to knock him out.

Brand, relieved to be able to breathe again, tumbled to his knees next to their knocked out stowaway and wheezed for air. “Creators have mercy,” he panted, trying to keep himself steady “I guess I owe you my thanks, again, Captain.”

“Oh, you owe me _so much more_ than just your thanks.” she teased back, not really bothering whether Fenris would get hurt as they dragged him towards the guest cabin below deck. Contrary, she had occasionally dropped him towards the floor with unmeant apologies as pay-back for hurting Brand. And Brand would scold her, trying to hide his amusement.

 

His hand was already well bandaged up and somewhat movable by the time Fenris woke up, tied to the bed with... silk scarves? Brand noticed the panicked elf squinting at them and chuckled. “Don't worry,” he tried “It was just the only thing we could use in our reach.”

Fenris completely stilled when hearing his voice, as if staying still would prevent Brand from seeing him, but the questioning stare still directed at him proved this tactic to be pointless. “Will you... explain to me, what that was about?” Brand tried, feeling somewhat uncomfortably by the fact that Fenris actually seemed to  _fear_ him.

The tied elf cleared his throat and tested his binding, figuring he could easily pull himself lose, but knowing he wouldn't get far with two rogues and a hand full of crew members around. Damned, if he had just paid more attention to his environment and possible enemies... Fenris took a deep breath and tried to block off his emotions, like he had often done in his time spend with Danarius.

“You're bringing me to Kirkwall,” his voice was even more monotonous than usual, with a scary lack of emotion “Back to my Master.”

Brand seemed horrified by the very idea “No, Fenris!” he exclaimed almost breathlessly, a nervous chuckle mingling with his words “Gods, no _._ We would never--” there was a flash of...  _something_ , in his eyes before he continued “We're heading to Kirkwall for business. Other business. You-- You will not even have to leave the ship if you don't want to.”

Fenris seemed skeptical to his words, but he wanted to believe. Maker, he wanted to believe he could still be free, even for a few more days, so badly. “Then will you let me go?” he tugged at the silk again half-heartedly.

“Only if you promise not to do the glow-y thing to me again.” Brand warned, he tried to sound playful, but there was an all too serious edge “How did you even do that? I've never seen the markings come apart from the skin before.”

He glanced away for a moment, expression turning grim, then answered “It isn't supposed to.”

When Brand realized there wouldn't be more of an answer, he simply walked towards the bedpost to untie him “It's too bad,” he turned back to his teasing “There would have been so much things we could do in this position, would you be willing.”

“Which I'm not.” Fenris huffed back in feigned annoyance, then managed a smile. He sat up and rubbed along his sore muscles “Fasta vass, I feel like I've been trampled by a horse.”

“As opposed to me getting rammed by an angry bronto?”

Brand gestured over his shoulder, towards the low door “I'm going to tell Isabela that she can lower her knifes.” he got up, hesitated a moment, and then left.

 

Fenris waited for a good few minutes before following, doing some simple stretches to get through the tense silence. After swallowing thickly and taking a few deep breaths before going through the door and climbing the stairs. He felt the blockade around his emotions pull up again almost automatically when he met eyes with the Captain. He could feel the usual pull of authority and now suddenly understood why they had accepted her in the position of captain.

Isabela had never looked down on him quite as throughoutly though, her brows furrowed and chin tilted up just slightly. The only reason she wouldn't pull her knifes on the elf for harming someone she cared about was Brand himself requesting her not to. “Unless you keep yourself in check, I advice you to get off of my ship the first chance you get.”

“But, Isabela-!” Brand protest, but shut up with one pointed look. His eyes were directed to the floor, but he felt shame burning at his cheeks when he noticed the way Fenris was looking at him.

 

The next time it was just the two of them, Isabela at the wheel again, Fenris chortled and looked away from him. “Not her slave, you said.” he pointed out, and he took the fact Brand said nothing back as a confirmation of his suspicion.

“She saved me, you know.” Brand said after a long silence, but Fenris dismissed it with a disgruntled huff “I mean it, Fenris! She's not my Master, she is-- She's so much more. She freed me from my Master and I--”

Fenris looked him straight in the eye “Tell me that you would say no if she asked you to do something you don't want to do.” he asked blankly, knowing that he crossed a line, but not caring for a change.

Brand slightly shook his head, so subtly that anyone else barely would have seen it, just like he had up in the crow's nest when Fenris had mentioned elves. He wondered if the blond elf was even aware of it.

“Then how is she not your master?”

Fenris simply arched his brow when Brand gripped the wooden railing in response, looking out at the sea again. Before the other could open his mouth again, Brand made a swift turn and gave a clean punch against his chest, successfully stealing the air from his lungs in one blow. He watched with a slight sense of satisfaction as Fenris sank to one knee in front of him. Shaking the dull pain from his hand, Brand looked down on him. “Don't ever dare to compare  _my Isabela_ with the likes of them again.”

It was the first and the last time Fenris spoke against either of them, his decision made. He would get off of the ship as soon as he could, even if it had to be in Kirkwall, and not return.

 

His wrist ached at the impact and he rolled it for a few times, adjusting the bandages that had already been around it on his way back to Isabela. Fenris was scrambling to his feet behind him, but Brand refused to look back. He definitely wasn't sorry for hitting him. Well... maybe. A little. Brand wordlessly perched up on the wooden pillar nearest to the steering wheel, one hand around one of the sail's ropes so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“That looked... intense.” Isabela tried after a few exchanged glances, but her words were only met with a disgruntled grunt. She had watched how Fenris had scrambled to his feet and was now looking towards Kirkwall with a look of stern determination. “Please tell me you didn't break up with pretty-boy, I was actually starting to like him.”

“You didn't act like you liked him a few minutes ago.” Brand pointed out, giving Isabela a look of suspicion. Sometimes he wished he had the ability to read minds, but Brand somehow doubted the pirate captain was able to even follow her own.

She laughed and gave the wheel a spin for their ship to break the waves. “That was when he had hurt you,” Isabela pointed out with a sly grin “Now you're even. So we're even.”

Were they? He surely didn't feel like they were, his wounded pride getting the better of them. Brand huffed and looked over at the younger elf “I guess I will have to apologize to him once we reach shore.”

“Preferably while downing the strongest ale they have.” Isabela agreed.

 

Maybe if Fenris had overheard them, the next would have never happened. Or maybe it was bound to happen and they would have ended up parting either way. He hadn't looked back as the world moved around him, the crew busying themselves with tying the boat. He dissociated, not enough to lose control of his own movements, but just enough for his emotions to feel numb and his thoughts to seem too far away.

As soon as the walking plank was set, he set off, skidding along the wood before setting foot on shore. It was hard to find his footing after this long at sea, but he was still fast enough to catch anyone able to follow him off guard. It gained him at least a few second head-start.

Fenris didn't understand _why_ he felt somewhat disappointed that no one followed.

 

He didn't slow his step until hushed whispers started to turn into words not far from him “---- would you stick your neck out for a total stranger?” the voice was low, calm and... strangely familiar. That was impossible though. Fenris had never been allowed out of the mansion when he and Danarius had made a trip to Kirkwall.

“---- your reputation, ------ head into the Deep roads unprepared.” Fenris gripped the bloodied handle of his sword, edging closer to the corner of the wall, and got closer as he tried to pick up more of the conversation “And besides, ---- partners. I'm willing to give you a little trust, if you are.”

“The treasure you will find there could set you and your family up for life!”

Fenris let go of his weapon, his interest perked at not just the voice of the one the man negotiated with now, but also what he had to offer. “We'll work together, you and I, and before you know it, you will have all the capital you need. What do you say?” If the offer had been for the escaped slave, he would have known.

“It's not like I got anything better planned.” the same warm voice answered, and Fenris felt his heart make a leap. After another second of hesitation, he came out of his hiding and sauntered towards the men with as much bravado as he could muster.

Fenris forced his face into perfect stillness, like he had done many times before, and kept his guard up stiffly “I overheard your conversation,” both men, one human and the other dwarf, looked up in startle “I want in.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know that this chapter was kind of a hasty mess, but I guess i was just getting too excited for everyone to meet my rogue Garrett Hawke. Not that there was much of him to meet in this chapter... yet. The Canon Divergence is also bound to grow more as the story progresses, though it still follows most main story-lines.


	5. The Hawke's nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris meets Hawke (and family?)

The dwarf took in the sight of the elf standing proudly before them, then glanced over at his newest partner in crime. “One of your friends?” he guessed, and Hawke squinted at him. For one nerve-wrecking second they looked at each other, Fenris lowering his gaze to the floor as soon as their eyes met.

“Yes,” his voice sound the same up close, and the small lie made the corner of his lips tug up. Hawke grinned back “ _Friend_ , this is Varric, I assume you've already heard his proposal.”

He gave a nod of acknowledgment “My name is Fenris,” he introduced himself to the dwarf, not offering a hand. Varric gave a soft hum, giving him another look over before offering a tight lipped smile “Varric Tethras, at your service.”

“Look... You both obviously need the money and we need all the help we can get. We need each other. Meet me in the Hanged Man, with your investment, and we will talk business.”

Varric left almost  _too_ quickly, like he knew the two would need some time alone.

Fenris watched the dwarf leave, his hands twitching as he felt Hawke's eyes on him, both of them stayed awkwardly silent. He was somewhat afraid to break the silence, but the man was  _staring_ at him and Fenris felt like he was going to be crushed under the intensity of his gaze.

“You lied for me.” he pointed out in disbelieve “Why?” Fenris kept his voice surprisingly steady, for he felt like he could be punished for insolent behavior at any moment. 

Hawke released a thoughtful hum instead “Well, first of all, you didn't give me much choice.” he pointed out, his voice more playful than condescending “And Varric was right, you look like you are in dire need of money.”

He should probably feel offended by the way the man gestured at his thorn and bloodied clothing, but Fenris could not find it in himself to feel anything but grateful. His body was forced to relax when there came no pain and his shoulder shagged forward slightly as he let the warmth of the man's words seep into him.

Fenris looked up with a slight smile “Thank y-” the breath was knocked from his lungs as his green eyes met with icy blue ones. They looked strikingly alike to the ones of the men he was running away from, he willed himself to steady his breathing and forced his gaze down, at Hawke's moving lips.

They were moving, but the sound that came from them seemed to come from too far away to reach him. “---ris? Are ------kay?” a broad hand reached for him and Fenris' eyes went wide.

 

A harsh shove against his chest had him stumbling back at least two steps and Hawke needed a few seconds to regain balance, his breath coming in quick heaves. He was about to raise his voice, but stopped himself as soon as his eyes locked with Fenris' again. The elf looked terrified. “Fenris?” he tried “Fenris, I'm not going to hurt you.”

Fenris swallowed thickly and looked away from the man, his hands shaking just slightly as he forced them into tight fists at his sides. “I apologize,” he spoke flatly, his mind somewhere else “I did not mean to act up.

Hawke felt a cold chill running along the back of his neck. He didn't like that tone, not at all. It remind him all too much of the compliant and empty words of the Tranquil that had reside in Lothering's Chantry.  _Pablo,_ he sternly remind himself,  _his name was Pablo._ And this was Fenris, he might just need a way to remind him of that.

Unsure of what to do, he fell back to the one thing that always seemed to work: his bad sense of humor. “Don't worry about it,” Hawke chuckled half-heartedly “I'm just glad you didn't go for my face.”

It wasn't followed by any of the snarky remarks he would have expected, nor laughter. Not even a smile, only a slightly puzzled look.

“You know, because-” Hawke gestured at himself awkwardly “My face is the only good thing about- No? Nothing? Ugh, never mind.” he gave a somewhat dejected look, like a kicked puppy. Fenris snorted, then coughed in a try to cover it up and looked away with the slightest smile.

Hawke had never felt so accomplished.

 

He had made him come with him as soon as it became clear the elf had no place to go, or at least no place he remembered, consequences be damned. The day Hawke would leave someone behind in the cold would be the day he had died. Fenris didn't object, unsure whether it was because he was afraid to say no to those eyes, or because he didn't  _want_ to object.

“We're temporary living with our uncle Gamlen,” Hawke spoke, he had been speaking for the whole thirty minutes they had been walking, satisfied with Fenris' hums and half-hearted nods “He... isn't the nicest guy. Well, I mean-- he _is_ , but in a more... jerk-ish way? Just... don't take everything he says at face value, is what I'm saying.” Fenris gave one of his mechanical hums in reply.

 

When Hawke paused at a reasonable sized house, he gestured for Fenris to follow him as he walked up the stairs and the elf complied without giving it a second thought. Sometimes he forgot he had a choice when someone told him what to do, and sometimes it was just easier to pretend to.

A slightly bigger man, though seemingly in his pre-teens, was greeting them with muscular arms crossed in front of his chest and a quirked brow “How many times does mom have to tell you not to take in strays?”

Hawke released an aggravated sigh and rolled his eyes, which made Fenris conclude that this was a conversation that often occurred. He wondered about the other strays, who or  _what_ they were, and what had become of them. All questions for later though.

“Carver, be nice,” the older brother warned “He's been through a lot.”

“Haven't we all?” Carver protested, not changing his stance and now glancing over at the elf standing perfectly still at the doorway. He hadn't taken a step over the door-post and seemed to be waiting for permission.

Hawke groaned, then lowered his voice and stepped in to continue their conversation in a lower pitch “Listen, you should have seen him, he was--” it was almost painful to remember the way Fenris had flinched out of his reach “He was afraid I was going to hit him.”

Carver quirked his brow impossibly higher “Isn't everyone in this city afraid you are going to hit them?” his tone had become just a little more playful and this was how Hawke knew he had won him over.

Letting out a mock gasp, Hawke slugged Carver on his shoulder “Only the ones who deserve it!”

“Only the ones who forget to pay up.” Bethany correct him from the doorway towards the kitchen, looking over at Fenris with newfound curiosity “Aren't you going to invite your friend in, Hawke?”

Hawke released another gasp, this time just a little more genuine, and looked from one sibling to the other “Does _everyone_ here hear _everything_?”

Bethany gave a slight shake of her head and giggled softly “No, brother, I am pretty aware that the ability to hear properly has skipped a few generations.” Carver chuckled in response and Hawke gave a good natured eye roll.

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot!" _Again._ "Come in, Fenris.”

Fenris looked at her with the same curiosity, stepping into the home when Hawke allowed him to, his eyes fixated on Bethany's. They all had them, those piercing blue eyes, all except the girl. Hers were honey brown and it felt like a breath of fresh air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than the others, but you have ~~at least~~ _two_ Hawke siblings to make up for it!


	6. A Business Transaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric gets more business partners than he bargained for.

While the presence of the young woman,  _Bethany,_ Fenris remind himself, was calming enough, there was also something...  _off_ about her. While she didn't cause the same overwhelming sensation of fire ants crawling along his markings that most magic users did, there was still a slight itch he couldn't shake off. Whether it was the total lack of care from the Magisters of Tevinter or a formidable amount of control, this woman was definitely a mage. Fenris continuously shifted on his feet, ready to jump at any possible threat. Wherever the oldest Hawke sibling went, he followed shortly after, with almost unsettling stealth. 

“You have been throwing daggers at my sister from the moment she nearly touched you,” Carver pointed out with a slightly annoyed huff, arms crossed in front of him again and muscles tensing protectively. As if Bethany needed any protecting. The young woman didn't show any of her power yet, simply flushing at the mention and making somewhat panicked hand-gestures “I really didn't mean to!”

Their fingers had just slightly brushed as she handed the elf a glass of water. The flash of blue light and sensation of the pull of lyrium had been... unexpected. Bethany was still inwardly reeling from it, the shards of glas and puddle of water long forgotten on the floor.

“We... really need to do something about that, if you was serious about joining the expedition.” he pointed out, scratching behind one of his unevenly flopped ears “Can't have you freaking out every time someone comes near you, especially not if we're supposed to work together.”

Fenris let out a rumbling breath of air that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, one hand tensing around his upper arm. The elf was squinting now, his previous wide-eyed look completely overshadowed by his deep frown. A frown that somehow made him look both confused and annoyed. And wildly attractive, Hawke thought, though he was pretty sure he might end up in a worse state as the glass laying shattered on the floor if he said so.

 

Before Fenris could find words, the door behind him squeaked open and he turned around swiftly. A head cautiously peeking in from the hallway, A mob of messy brown hair obscured most of his somewhat scruffy face, but his square jaw resembled Hawke's just enough to see family relation. “What are we eating?”

His voice sound rough and almost painful to use, like gravel. Hawke had to take a deep breath so he wouldn't burst into laughter again. Get a hold of yourself, stupid! Instead he smiled over at him “William! Dinner actually... isn't served yet. It's noon.”

William's facial expression fell and he swiped his hair to the side, revealing two emerald green eyes. “If there's no dinner yet, then what is the fuss about?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles after he stretched. It was a peculiar man, to say the least. If he could already be called that.

Fenris backed up slightly when he felt a tingle that started at his fingertips, traveling up his arm. The itch changed into pain the higher it traveled, until it felt like searing fire as it reached his shoulder. He clenched his teeth and reached for the butcher knife that stuck out of the kitchen counter.

They were only met with humming as William was looking through the fruit basked on the dinner table. When William had finally found the least moldy apple, he took a bite of it and waved the apple in their guest's direction. “Who's that?”

“Ah, yes! This is Fenris,” Hawke introduced him and he froze, locking eyes with the man... no, the _mage_ he had been introduced to “Guess what? Carver was right about the dwarf.”

“I will be going with Hawke, to the Deep Roads.” Fenris explained, his gaze shifting back to the floor submissively just before their eyes could meet. William chortled “Rather you than I, friend.”

The four Hawke siblings started talking about the upcoming expedition, but Fenris couldn't concentrate on any of their words. The pain was rippling through him in waves now, like fire ants gathering at the lyrium in his markings. William's magic was different than most other he had experienced, with more heat and completely out of control. The exact opposite to his Sister's.

 

Fenris couldn't sleep that night.

The spare bed was  _too_ soft, the Hawke's had been  _too_ nice and the temperature was  _too_ high. The latter could be because his room was next to the one of the human heater. The mage, William. But Hawke had been strangely accommodating, and Fenris felt like he had no place to complain.

He looked outside, trying to make out the constellations. His mind wandered to Brand for just a moment, how he had excitedly told him about them and elvhen history. Last time he had seen him felt like years ago, even though it was just yesterday.

 

They had gotten up early to meet the dwarf, Varric, in the Hanged Man, but Fenris found himself looking up at the sign almost uncomfortably. He couldn't read it, not really, but he knew what it meant if he could trust Hawke on his words.  _The Hanged Man._ He should, when he ever got the time, ask why it was called that.

“Hawke!” Varric greet him, as if greeting an old friend, then looked over his company “And... Fenris, right?” the finger he had theatrically pointed at the elf then dragged on to the next person, and the next, until Carver and Bethany had introduced themselves, too. “Really, Hawke, if I had known you would bring company I would have had Corff prepare us more drinks.”

Carver shrugged off handedly “Ale here tastes like piss anyway.”

As the dwarf lead them into the tavern, the brothers bickering, Bethany trailed behind next to Fenris with a slight smile. It felt strange to be part of such a company, part of a  _family_ , even though he was hardly a part of it.

 

Varric had lead them through a few empty hallways, then welcomed them in the back room he had been calling his home for a very long time. He was lucky his old friend had offered him a place to stay, though he still had to pay for it from the sparse gold his books earned him. He gestured to the rickety chairs, offering his new business partners a place to sit.

“So, here's the thing.” he leaned one of his broad hands on the table and leaned forward a little, looking more at Hawke than anyone else, like they weren't even there. “The money's all good and well. I trust you got that part under control, but we will need to find an entrance.”

Fenris frowned, looking towards the oldest Hawke and nearly crossing gaze with him along the way. He turned his gaze back to the floor before their eyes actually met. He cleared his throat, keeping his voice low and just loud enough to hear “If you are to lead this expedition, an entrance would surely be nice.”

Hawke gaped at  him, he opened and closed his mouth a few times, not sure what to say. It felt so...  _strange_ , to hear the elf crack a joke. Bethany was the first to giggle, covering her lips with her mouth in a try to muffle the sound, Carver snorted. Fenris couldn't help thinking the oldest Hawke looked a little like a fish of dry land like this, and he could feel something akin to affection coil in the pit of his stomach when the bearded man nervously started laughing, too.

“Okay, okay, very funny-” Varric raised his hand, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in amusement. It had been... a while he had been able to be part of a group of people who truly seemed to enjoy each others' company. He almost hated having to get back to business. Almost. “Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we still need a good entrance?”

Hawke rested his arm on the table in front of him, leaning to the side a little in a try to bump Fenris' shoulder, but the elf skillfully evade the touch. “Any entrance would do, wouldn't it?” Hawke playfully countered Varric, trying not to let it bring down his spirits “Unless a dragon is sitting in it, I suppose.”

Varric spread an unfinished map over the table, but his arms couldn't quite keep it rolled open. Carver begrudgingly held down one side under the palm of his hand without further comment, quietly looking over it. Everyone except Fenris followed his lead. The dwarf pointed at their destination on the map. “We need an entrance that's close to our destination, but isn't already plundered or filled with darkspawn.”

The eldest Hawke send his siblings a look, then leaned over the map. His expression had turned grave as soon as darkspawn were mentioned, his jaw twitching and his teeth clenched tight. “How?”

“We, my dear business partner, need a Warden.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am again! A lot of things happened, so I couldn't keep to the one-chapter-a-week schedule, but I will try to get on it again from now on. I also promise things will get less dialogue-heavy once they've reached the Deep Roads and become more of a story standing on its own.


	7. Recruiting the Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This definitely doesn't go as smoothly as Hawke had hoped.

“Of course it's a mage...” Fenris huffed to himself, they had send the other Hawke siblings off to gather the coin they would need. Bethany had mentioned a woman of the guards called Aveline, and Carver had left in the same direction to visit the Chantry board, which left him and Hawke to get the Warden. When Hawke looked at him questioningly, Fenris simply gave a shrug, resisting the urge to tell the man the truth. To admit the irony of having to rely on yet another mage to stay alive.

Hawke seemed to be uneasy for just a moment, but then smiled again. The man smiled so much that Fenris wondered if his cheeks would ache at night, but even if they did, that would probably only make the bearded man smile impossibly more.

“You really dislike mages, don't you?” he teased the elf, though it sound somewhat... hurt.

Fenris released an undignified huff again “Not in particular,” he answered, not meeting eyes with Hawke “I like Bethany well enough.” at least she hadn't used her magic anywhere near him and, though he was still expecting her to somehow turn around and betray him, she had showed him nothing but kindness.

It brought a smile to his face and Fenris couldn't help himself from looking up to catch that wonderful happy glint in Hawke's eyes. He looked away as if burned by it.

_Icy blue eyes, looking down on his battered body, shining with twisted glee._

He staggered back from those eyes, now glaring at the floor.

Hawke wanted to say something, possibly ask, but instead Fenris grumbled to him just above a whisper. The bearded man blinked owlishly “I'm sorry ... What?” Fenris gave him a credulous look and gestured towards a down run store building “This should be our destination.”

“Lirene's Fereldan Imports,” he read out loud, then released a fond sigh “Reminds me of home.”

 

Their talk with the woman with Lirene wasn't too long, but not short enough, the two Fereldan refugees derailing into talk about their homeland once every other sentence until Fenris would clear his throat and get back to their objective. They needed a Warden. They need  _Anders_ . Fenris glanced over at Hawke, inwardly cursing the man and his easy going nature.

At least they left knowing the location of Anders' clinic.

“It's left, here,” Hawke gestured for Fenris, making sure to avoid physical contact, they both came to a halt in front of the improvised 'door'. A long cloth hanging down from the ceiling just behind the ragged door-frame, and a word Fenris couldn't read painted on with big black letters.

Behind that thin cloth, there was magic. Fenris could feel it on his skin, the magic pulling at the lyrium so strongly that it felt like needles pressing against his skin, not yet painful but just enough to make him feel uneasy and breathless. He had to stop himself from reaching out to stop Hawke when the man pressed through the improvised door.

 

Healed clients walked passed them, but Fenris barely noticed, already fixated on the mage in the room. When he twirled his staff and threateningly raised his hand, ready to cast a spell, Fenris lunged forward.

Before they clashed, the sound of weapons being pulled cut through their battle cries. There was a blur of black and red where he went, and before they knew it, Hawke had caught Fenris' sword in the curve of his blade and was blocking the mage's staff with the sharp of his other. He stood like a wall between them, eyes overshadowed by his deep brows as his head was tilt forward.

“I made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation,” Anders hissed, finally pulling back and digging the blade on the end of his staff into the wooden floor as a sign he wouldn't use it. The several dents already made in the floor proved that he had done so many times before. “Why would you threaten it?”

Reluctantly, Fenris stepped back, trying to ignore the pulsating of his lyrium markings. Hawke slowly fell back into a more relaxed stance, but kept his weapons drawn “We are not here to threaten  _anything_ .” he insist.

Anders looked from the rogue to his companion, who was looking at the floor, his strange markings dimly lit. There was lyrium nearby, and that could mean just one thing... yet, the man that had stopped the blow could have done much more damage had he been a Templar. And to his knowledge the Order of Templar didn't recruit elves into their order. “You're not here to take me to the Circle?”

“Maker, _no_!” Hawke gasped, but Fenris was still glowering at the mage, part of him not as opposed to the idea as his companion. He let Hawke take control of the situation, glancing at the floor as he did. “We're just here to talk.”

“Of what?”

Well... shit. This wasn't going as smoothly as he had hoped. Hawke gave a somewhat nervous nod, then spoke, his hands moving along with his words. “Word is going around that you are a Warden, and we- My friend Fenris and I- We are part of an expedition to the Deep Roads.” Anders gave him a credulous look, so Hawke add “Any information you got might save people's lives.”

“I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the _blighted_ Deep Roads again.” he seemed more exasperated than anything “You can't imagine what I've been through to get here. I'm not interested in-” Hawke wasn't sure if it were his pleading eyes or something in Anders' memory, but the mage stopped and thought for a short moment. “Although... a favor for a favor, doesn't that sound like a fair deal?”

“Help my expedition reach the Deep Roads, and I'll do whate-” 

Fenris let out a noise of protest from the back of his throat, accidentally drawing all attention back to him. He tried to ignore Anders' questioning look and looked at Hawke again “You  _cannot_ be considering saying yes before knowing what the mage will make you accomplish of.”

The words made Hawke reconsider, and Anders used the moment Hawke's eyes were not on him to send his elf an aggravated glare.

“I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows.” Anders explained, and while Hawke gave him a look of sad understanding, Fenris threw an exasperated look too the ceiling and cursed the maker. “The Templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and I will give you maps to the Deep Roads.”

Hawke gave it some thought, then gave a sad nod “I have heard of what is going on in the Gallows from William, I don't even want to imagine-  _No one_ should live like that. I would help any person in those circumstances, map or no.”

“Hawke!” Fenris snapped, then swallowed thickly. He overstepped his boundaries, but he couldn't let this continue “We do not know anything about his friend, it could be a trap. Even if it is not, we would be aiding an _apostate_.”

The mage scoffed, the very sound making Fenris straighten his back and his gaze lower back to the floor. Such a sound of disdain from a mage had never lead to anything good before. “You say that as if it's a curse.” Anders accused “Yes, Andraste said magic should serve man, not rule over him. But I've yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything.”

His fist was shaking tightly at his side, “Then you have  _not_ looked far.”

 

He looked at Fenris first, then at Anders, but then finally stepped in again. This wasn't a fight his knifes could fix, so instead Hawke put away his weapons and held up his hands in a calm gesture “There is obviously bad blood between you, but you need help-” he point at the mage, then dragged his finger to Fenris “We need those maps. So whether you two like each other or not, you will have to work together.”

Fenris didn't protest, but he didn't relax either, his gaze hard and cold. To distract himself, he made his eyes trace the many lines across the palm of Hawke's open hand.

His eyes narrowed with sudden realization when he repeat the words in his head “You just said  _you_ instead of us there,” Fenris' voice was even lower than usually, closer to a growl. He was dreading what that unfortunate choice of words might imply.

“I can't risk being seen by Templars myself.” Hawke pointed out, knowing all too well the Circle could take William away from them at any moment if he crossed lines “

Fenris gave Anders an almost accusing look, as if this was his fault! Anders swore it wasn't. “You cannot seriously be thinking I will be working together with that-” they spoke in unison, then broke off in the words 'apostate' and 'animal'.

The elf growled at him, almost confirming his name calling. “I am no animal, mage.”

“You nearly _killed_ me!” Anders shot back theatrically.

Fenris scoffed “If I had intended to kill you, you would be dead by now.”

Hawke groaned and dragged the palm of his hand along the side of his face. This wasn't going to go well. He would definitely have to ask Varric and Carver to keep an eye on them, or this sudden hostility would ruin the entire expedition before it even started.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, but imagine what _killer arms_ Hawke has to have to be able to deflect their weapons. Just wanted to put that out there.


	8. Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and co. help Anders to safe his friend Karl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is a short Isabela/Brand bonus because I love them.
> 
> I am also aware I promised more Hawke family history, but it really didn't seem to fit this chapter, so we will another time soon, I promise!

“Isabela!” he playfully scold his captain, bumping shoulders with her “You can't just hijack a story!”

“That's 'captain' Isabela for you,” she shot back, downing a glass of the strange liquor they had taken last heist “'sides, You were telling the story all wrong! I won't have you butcher my favorite story to tell.” she looked at the bottom of her glass with an arched brow, then reached for Brand's, downing it and kissing his cheek as reward.

Brand gave her another shove, but Isabela leaned back in time, the sudden movement send them tumbling, the blond elf catching himself on his elbows just before crashing into Isabela. He smiled down at her intently, both of their chests rhythmically rising and falling as they gasp for breath.

“Captain?” he muttered as he bend down, feeling her breathing on his lips “I wish to always stay by your side.”

Isabela looked at him in silence for a moment, then smirked “Come here, you sentimental fool.” she closed the last gap between them, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss as Isabela rolled them over to take control.

 

* * *

 

 

Fenris was obviously tense, despite Varric chattering away next to him, and Carver wasn't sure what to do about it. It seemed foolish to anger the Templars for someone they barely knew, for maps they hadn't even seen was there. Standing here, after nightfall, made his brothers' agreement to this even more foolish.

The elf shifted back slightly at the figure standing at the top of the Chantry steps, becoming impossibly more tense, all muscles ready to jump into action. Carver recognized the movement now. Like Bethany would react to Templars, Fenris seemed to react to magic itself. “It's the Warden. Anders.” he pointed out, giving both Varric and Carver a nod before their approached.

“You're here!” Anders spoke in a harsh whisper, looking genuinely surprised, maybe even appreciative. His blue eyes narrowed when seeing Carver and Varric though “And you brought company.”

Varric was luckily the one to speak up, because neither Carver nor Fenris would have anything good to say of the situation. “We are all friends of Hawke, Blondie.” he said “And we all have interest in those maps you got.”

Anders gave a stoic nod, his eyes still narrowed in suspicion “Well, you will not see any of them until we got Karl out of there.” he warned.

 

They made their way inside, but it was strangely quiet. Too quiet. Varric had his bow at the ready, scanning the environment as Carver held the heft of his blade with both hands. Fenris frowned as always, now so deep that his nose wrinkled “Mage, I thought you told us we were here to get one of yours.” The only source of magic around was Anders himself.

“Anders, I know you too well.” the voice was monotone and soft, but it reached all of them and made Carver visibly shudder. Anders sprinted forward, calling out his friend's name as he uninterruptedly continued talking “I knew you would never give up.”

Anders retaliated when Karl turned around, holding his breath. Varric and Carver audibly gasped, and Fenris shared a look with them in confusion, then looked at the man in front of them.

“I was too rebellious. Like you. The Templars knew I had to be... made an example of.”

The Mage was shaking and Fenris instinctively took a step forward at the broken “No!” he exclaimed. Anders tried to reach for Karl, but the man continued talking, speaking a ill concealed threat. “How else will mages ever master themselves? You will understand, Anders. As soon as the Templars will teach you how to control yourself.”

Fenris grabbed his weapon at the sound of the scraping of metal, Templar in full armor stalking near. He took a stand, glancing at Carver and Varric to make sure they were ready. The dwarf was the first to attack, letting a rain of arrows fall down on their enemy without reluctance.

“Mage! Grab your friend and go!” he urged, but Anders was hunched in on himself and shaking.

He cried out again, an angry and heartbroken battle cry, an impossible amount of magical energy collecting at his very core. Fenris was pulled towards it, markings lighting up and the magic latching to its lyrium, drawing even more power from it.

Fenris collapsed with a choked scream of pain, his weapon falling to the floor with a loud clatter. The sound didn't reach above the already ongoing battle though.

“You will never take another mage as you took him!” Anders bellowed at the Templars, eyes glowing a bright blue and cracks showing along his skin, showing the bright magical energy that was stored underneath. Lightning, bright hot, shot away from the Mage and towars his enemies.

Carver and Varric had to dash aside to avoid being scorched themselves, and continued to watch the Templars screaming as they were boiled alive inside of their own armors.

Anders stood as still as a statue while the magic subdued, then collapsed next to Fenris, both figures heaving for breath. Carver rushed to Fenris' side, hesitantly giving him an awkward shoulder pat “Are you okay? What happened?”

 

“I- Anders?” the voice was different from the way it sound before, but also eerily the same “What happened?” It was Karl. Karl was- Anders staggered to his feet and the man caught him in his arms, like he had done many times before. “It's like... you brought a piece of the Fade into this world.”

He looked up at Karl and gave a tired smile, shakily lifting a hand to cover up the mark at his forehead. “It's like you have the Fade inside of you, Anders, shining bright like the sun.” Karl whispered, reaching to hold Anders' free hand.

Their bittersweet reunion was cut short by Varric “Guys, I hate disturbing such a sweet scene, but we better get out of here!”

Anders grabbed hold of Karl's hand, refusing to let go. And in that moment, Fenris didn't see danger or magic, but two terrified men, clinging onto the last thing they had. It reminded him of... _something_. A memory that was gone as soon as he tried to grasp it.

Fenris gathered his weapon from the floor and let Carver help him up. “Carver and I will create us safety on the street. Varric, you should be the gate keeper, have our backs.” It was strange to be the one to give out the orders, almost forbidden, but he seemed to be the only one to be thinking on his feet.

Carver moved like he asked, everyone was about to, but Karl stopped and Anders was yanked back by the sudden movement. “Anders, I-” he looked terrified “Anders, it's Fading!”

“Bring it back, Anders! Please!” he grasped at his head, making Anders lose grip of his hand “Please, I don't want to lose myself again...” Anders gave him a helpless look, one hand lift uselessly in the air between them. He didn't know what to do.

Karl could see it and, as he felt himself fade away, and made one last decision for himself. A selfish request. “Please, kill me, before I forget again.” Anders took a shaky breath, his hand trembling.

“Karl, no-” he shook his head, dropping his hand to his side. Fenris swifted back on his feet to face the men, as did the rest of their party, all confused and exhausted. But his pain was not for their eyes to see, and this decision was not theirs. So Fenris start his way towards the Chantry doors, Varric and Carver reluctantly following him, leaving the two men alone.

 

Anders had no choice, that's what he told himself. That's what he knew everyone would agree with. But it didn't feel like that. If only he had been quicker. He had kept Karl tightly hugged to his chest, one hand covering his lips as the other closed his nostrils. Anders held on tightly and sobbed into his shoulder. A mantra of 'I'm sorry's and untold words leaving him as he slightly rocked them back and forth. The man he had once- The man he _still_ loved, gradually stopped struggling, the Tranquility coming back, and then died in his arms.

He had no idea how long he had been there, but he shrugged off his mantle to cover Karl up, laying him down on one of the pews, then reluctantly left. He had never expected Fenris to have been waiting for him at the door.

“I kept watch.” Fenris grumbled, not adding anything else as the Mage passed. They walked side by side in silence, making their way back to Anders' clinic.

 

The silence was comfortable to Fenris, it was what he was used to, but it was crippling to Anders. When they reached the clinic, he invited the elf inside. Fenris reluctantly did so.

“I will not tell anyone.” Fenris promised, not looking at the mage. Anders gave him a surprised look. He had been sure someone with such hatred for magic would be jumping to tell any dirt they would find on him. Though he would not look a given horse in the ass. Or whatever.

“My maps are yours,” Anders promised, handing Fenris the maps “And so am I. May you need my help at your expedition.”

He weighted the map in his hands, then gave Anders a look and a slight smile “I will make sure to tell Hawke.”

 

 


	9. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris meets again with Isabela and looses his cool when he finds out what happened to Brand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it is the time to admit something... I am _not_ fond of Isabela. So it's kind of hard for me to write her. I promise my writing will improve though and she will go through a lot of character development along the way.

Fenris was still pondering what Anders was  _exactly_ as he made his way to the Hanged Man. He had a lot of magic in him, that was sure, but when the blue light came everything felt... different. The magic had pulled at his lyrium and drained him, but Anders hadn't meant to do any of it. He could hardly tell on him though. Fenris of all people knew how it felt to have to kill someone you cared about, to have to watch them die. He couldn't blame Anders for what happened while and after. He just... couldn't.

He came to a halt just in front of the door, gripping onto the parchment in his hands. Fenris could already hear booming laughter coming from inside. Hawke. The sound seemed to get through to him louder than anything else, even though he knew the man wasn't even laughing as loudly. He caught himself hurrying inside and trying to find him.

Hawke was sitting at a table with Carver and Varric, who both seemed to have forgotten the harsh situation they had been in mere hours ago, cards and drinks in hand. There was also a woman, one he could only see from he behind, but he recognized her at first glance.

Fenris was almost reluctant to approach, but Hawke waved at him enthusiastically.

“Rivaini, I would like you to meet-” “Fenris,” Isabela cut Varric short after she had turned her head, she send him a beaming smile “You're alright!”

It wasn't the greeting he had expected, but Fenris would take it above anything else that could have happened. He pulled back one of the chairs and sat down on it stiffly. “I... thought we were here to talk about the expedition.”

Everyone turned their attention to him expectantly and Fenris nervously fiddled with the fabric of the maps he held in his hands. “Are we sure we want to talk about this while  _she_ is here?”

Isabela gaped at him in mock offense “I would never run of with it,” she teasingly pressed her hand to her chest, not caring about making her natural curves stand out even more “On my captain's honor.”

“Come on, Broody, she needs the money to buy a new ship.”

Fenris was about to comment on Varric's new nickname for him, and everyone else, but every other thought was banished when a new ship was mentioned. He narrowed his eyes on Isabela with mild suspicion. “I doubt Brand would agree with your need for a new ship.”

“Well, luckily Brand isn't _here_ anymore.” Isabela waved it off as if it was nothing, though there were hidden emotions behind her flamboyance. Fenris knew he would never leave Isabela. Never.

Worry grew in the pit of his stomach as he slammed the maps onto the table “You should all take a look at these,” he encouraged, trying to hide the conflicting emotions welling up inside of him “I need to have a talk with... 'Rivaini'.”

 

Isabela laughed as Fenris dragged her off outside “Did you see how they looked at us?” she tried to steer the conversation away from the obvious subject “No doubt they are talking about what you could possibly be doing to me right now-” she stopped talking, her hand already at the hilt of her weapon as she Fenris stopped walking and she saw his muscles tense.

“ _How_ did you lose Brand?” he asked, not even turning to meet her eyes, too afraid he would snap if he did. Isabela's answer was short and didn't seem to make much sense. “Wicked Grace.” she said. Fenris turned to glare at her “Please, for once, be serious.”

“I _am_ ,” she admit, her smile falling to a defeated expression “It shouldn't have happened. It was _my_ pack, I _knew_ what cards I was going to get, and which one he was _supposed_ to get... he cheated on me.”

It took Fenris a while to piece together, but once he did, his expression was one of disbelief and disappointment. He imagined her confidently throwing her hand on the table, then her confidence turning into confusion when the opposing party drew a hand higher than hers.

He imagined Brand fighting when they pulled him away from her, crying out her name, and she-

“You should have _done_ something!” Fenris accused, stepping in, all feelings he had before now twisting and turning into anger. She drew her weapons and used them to shield herself for whatever he would throw at her. Though she had never expected them to be words. “He _loved_ you!”

Isabela lowered her weapons with an unreadable expression “He...  _what_ ?”

Fenris didn't believe that it seemed to come as a shock to her, didn't care, all he felt was anger and guilt. He should have been there. He could have defend him!

He glared at her, but took heaving breaths in a try to stay calm “Where did they take him?” he growled, ignoring the way Isabela looked at him. “They told me they wanted my ship, and anything on it. I didn't know they meant  _him_ , too! I swear.”

“ _ **Where**_ **?!”**

“We hade a deal, if anyone but me would try to fare my ship out of the harbor, my crew would... sink the ship.” Isabela answered quickly, her expression turning more grim with every word to come “I taught my crew how to swim. He should have been with them at the docks, but he- We couldn't find him anywhere.”

Fenris shook his head, trying to banish the anger and conflicting emotions and concentrate. He had to think. “Why didn't you continue searching for him?” he asked, still accusing Isabela of anything that could have happened.

Isabela shrugged, trying to regain her usual carefree attitude “At one point a person has to go on with their life, Fenris.” she answered pointedly.

He gave her a stern look “ _He_ would never have stopped looking for you.” and left.

“Where are you going?” she had called after him, but Isabela already knew. He was going where she should have gone to search from the start: the harbor, the alienage, _anywhere_.

 

When Isabela came back, Hawke was the first to give her a questioning look, but she just shrugged her shoulders and bend over the map as Varric did, listening to his tactics. Everyone seemed to have something to say about which ways they should take, but no one seemed to actually know what they were doing except for her and Varric.

“I'm getting really worried about Fenris,” Hawke admit, not really paying attention to their planning anymore. Despite being a rogue, his focus and concentration span had always been slightly off. Carver respond with an annoyed sigh “Come on, Garret, he's not a child.” “And most certainly not _your_ child.” Isabela add. Hawke nearly groaned in frustration.

He turned to Isabela, trying not to be distracted by her revealing clothes. Even though he had only been attracted to men before, Hawke couldn't deny she was pretty. No wonder Carver had been ogling her this entire time. Rude, but not unexpected. Nor did it seem to bother Isabela with the way they were undressing each other with their eyes.

Ew, no, track back, Hawke, concentrate.

“Where did he say he would go?” Hawke tried, expecting another one of Isabela's dismissive answers, but while she didn't sound to invested, she finally said something he actually could work with. “Probably to the harbor.”

The answer puzzled Hawke, but he was already getting up as he asked “Why would he go to the harbor?” Isabela's only answer was a shrug of her shoulder and a mumbled “Beats me.”

He was going to leave. It was the only logical explanation that Hawke could come up with, and he honestly didn't understand why it bothered him so much. They had barely known each other for days and yet... he wanted Fenris to stay with him.

For now, Hawke tried to kid himself by convincing himself that they needed Fenris for the expedition.

 

Fenris had found nothing in the harbor, like Isabela had already predict, but he had found one of her crew stalking the area. Probably in search of Brand too, though she had come as empty handed as they all had. She promised to go to Isabela if she found anything new and dashed off, as if Fenris' presence made her nervous. He tried not to think of it as he continued following the waters leading to the outside of Kirkwall.

The Wounded Coast. He had heard of it before, but never visited other than longing glances out of carriage windows. Fenris begged tot he Maker this was not where Brand had ended up. It was a feared place, full of bandits and other predators.

He kept his eyes on the patches of sand in front of his feet as he walked, sometimes looking left and right to scan the area, and tried to estimate where the ship could have gone down. To his frustration he realized that 'just outside of the harbor' could be nearly anywhere along the coast. After what felt like hours of walking, Fenris slumped and sat down on the moist sand near the waterline. “You softhearted idiot...” he scold, not even sure if he meant Brand or himself.

 

“Fenris!”

The voice came from far and he didn't look up, his gaze on the wide sea before him. Brand was somewhere there, probably, drowned or worse... taken back to Kirkwall. Or wherever he came from. It was hard for Fenris not to see himself in Brand.

“Fenris, thank the Maker!”

There was a dull sound of someone colliding with the sand close to him and Fenris flinched away from the possibility of touch. He blinked, looking up to Hawke, who had looked like he had ran all the way there. He had, black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, heaving for breath.

Hawke send him one of his stupid, broad smiles, that forced his eyes nearly shut “I'm so glad that I found you.” he admit, between gasps for air “I thought you ran away from us.”

Fenris looked away from him, unable to bear the sight. This man couldn't possibly care about him. “I have considered it.” he admit, yet he did so with a smile “But I quite like it here.”

Despite everything, he really had liked the time he had spend with the Hawkes, though if you had ever told him the first weeks of his 'free' life would be in Kirkwall, Fenris would consider them insane. But now... Fenris looked up at the sky and released a soft chuckle.

The sound warmed Hawke's heart and his smile became smaller, but more genuine as he took in the sight of the elf. “Then why did you run off?”

When his expression saddened, Hawke immediately felt sorry for asking it. Fenris looked at him with almost desperate looking eyes. He told him the story of how he came here by ship, though he didn't say where he had come from. Fenris told him about the time spend on the ship, how he and Brand had gotten closer watching the stars, their fallout... until the very end.

 

“Do you think he died?” Hawke asked, despite his reluctance. Fenris looked at him for a moment, then back to the sea “I do not know,” he said “He surely would have returned to Isabela if he had the chance.”

If he had the chance... Hawke repeat got to his feet “But maybe he doesn't!” he exclaimed, and Fenris quirked a brow at him, a little skeptic about how enthusiastic the eldest Hawke seemed. The man practically bounced in place. “Maybe he got caught again. O-Or he got away, but is wounded! He could still be around.”

Hawke was already up and scouting the coast when Fenris had gotten up from the sand. He rubbed the back of his neck as he saw the man looking around. He seemed so sure. So eager to help. With a soft sigh, Fenris shook his head, unaware of the charmed smile that took his features.

“Hawke!” he called out “Wait for me! Do you even know what Brand looks like?” Fenris had to make a sprint to catch up with him.

 


	10. Make your own future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hawke and Fenris continue their search for Brand, Fenris refuses to be controlled by even the Creators themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I have been too busy to post for a while, but this story is still very much on-going. Upcoming chapter is the proof of that, even though it's a little short in comparison. I hope you enjoy! I might be posting a bonus chapter on my birthday (28th of July) just because.

They continued searching for hours, Hawke could feel his knee starting to act up from the strain of the constant walking, but he tried his best to still keep up with Fenris. His energy seemed never ending, lead by the determination to find his friend now that Hawke had brought back a sliver of hope.

Fenris had continued walking in the same phase, but almost automatically trailed back when he realized Hawke hadn't followed. “Can't you use one of those... magic elf-y powers you all have?” he asked, catching his breath and fisting at the fabric just above his knee. Fenris respond with a disgruntled “No magic.” 

“And It does not... work like that.” he sighed “You can only feel each others' presence if you are soul mates. Unfortunately, you cannot chose those.”

Hawke's dark eyebrows furrowed just above his deeply set eyes as he tried to figure out why Fenris suddenly looked so sad, and how he could fix that. Despite always having a solemn expression on his face when being alone, he hated when other people looked anything but happy. “Then who chooses your soul mate?”

Fenris corrected him to 'mate **s** ' offhandedly. Elves rarely had just one soul mate in their life, and Fenris was already knew he wasn't one of them. And he at least hoped... there  _had_ to be more. He looked lost for just a moment, but then finally answered Hawke's question “The creators,” he spoke begrudgingly, because he didn't believe. Or he just didn't want to believe: no one could be so cruel.

"The creators?" He repeated, voice coated with disbelief. Of course it was! Hawke was already having a hard time even believing in the Maker, despite his Andrastian upbringing. Several gods controlling the world and strange voodoo markings was nearly too much to swallow. If his siblings wouldn't have been born with it, even magic would have seemed to far fetched. 

But he would try to understand if that would help.

Hawke stretched his back and slightly shook his leg before gesturing onward, hoping that walking while they talked would make both of them less tense. “Isn't it strange that, some people in the sky, who don't even know you, decide what people should be a part of your life?”

Fenris didn't dare to roll his eyes, knowing Hawke was looking at him, so instead he simply continued looking around for possible signs of Brand. “It is just how it is,” there was nothing to do about it. You couldn't change fate, he had tried.

 

“But it shouldn't be like that,” Hawke tried to talk sense into him “What about deciding your own future? You can't let your life be decided by someone else. What about freedom?”

He turned around abruptly, the markings on his arms glowing an unnatural shade of blue “Do  _not_ talk about things you do not understand!” Fenris had fought for this, he had fought for freedom. “I will  _not_ be controlled.”

Hawke had backed up, one more step for every looming step the elf took his way. The sudden realization that he rarely knew this man suddenly hit him. The threat of the unknown. No one would know where he was if something would happen. When backed up against one of the many wreckages found on the storm coast, he felt himself reach to his weapon.

No. Control. Hawke, control yourself. He flexed his fingers and used his voice instead. “Then  _do_ something about it!”

 

Fenris flinched back as soon as he raised his voice, his markings flashing brightly, too bright, but then dying down at once. “Finding your soul mate is a beautiful thing,” he protest, albeit a little shaky “It feels like...”

There was a memory of laughter, and even though it was too far away to remember, he could hear the voices of young children and- That was it. There was the memory of Hissera, but it was overshadowed by the pain caused by Danarius.

'Do something...' Fenris echoed the same words to himself.

Hawke looked at him questioningly, expression softened to one of curiosity and compassion. “Like what, Fenris?” he asked, reaching. Fenris avoid the touch by stepping out, one hand moving to hold the hilt of his blade.

'Please, stop moving away from me,' Hawke thought, 'I don't want to be alone.' The feeling was suddenly overwhelming, the conflicting emotions Fenris caused him slowly taking its toll.

Fenris' expression changed into a look of pure determination, small folds appearing at his forehead, his nose wrinkling slightly. Hawke unconsciously mirrored his expression. The intricate markings along his arms - No, this time the light revealed markings over what seemed to be his entire body! - started glowing, lighting up with an amount of power even a non-magic user could feel.

Lyrium. Right underneath his skin, in the markings, the thorned liana texture that overshadowed most of his flower markings. He controlled it, formed it to his will, though it visibly took a toll on him.

“It feels like...” his voice sound choked and barely audible. Fenris thought about the memory of laughter again, then concentrated on the feeling Hissera had given him. Then he thought about Brand, about the moments they had shared under the stars. All those stories, those exchanged smiles. It wasn't romantic love in any way, but it was... “Like home.”

His eyes snapped open with a loud gasp and he could feel his skin itch and burn.

It hurt, because he forced it, but among the thorns a dark red flower started to unfold. It seemed to pierce skin, blood dripping from the marking, even though there was no open wound, but Fenris smiled.

“I _make_ my own future.” Fenris told Hawke, almost daringly, after which he took off.

 

Hawke tried to keep up with him, but he asked too much of his body and end up having to drag his leg along among the sand. When he caught up with Fenris again, he saw he had dropped to his knees among the shattered wood of a ship wreckage and struggled to lift the side of a piece of wooden floorboard.

He could see, even from this far away, that Fenris tried to keep his right arm unburdened. The arm where the flower of the forced connection grew. Hawke ran, forgetting about his own pain, and let his feet sink in the sand next to Fenris. He took a firm hold of the piece of wood and pulled with all his might.

With a mighty groan, he heaved the bottom piece of wood up and threw the hazardously piled up pieces of wreckage as far away as possible.

Fenris didn't take time to look up at him, despite his heroic effort! He pushed another few pieces of wood aside and pulled a crumbled and bruised body from the wreckage. He felt along his wrists, pressing to search for a heartbeat. “You can't be dead.” his voice sound broken, eyes flashing towards the flower still blooming on his skin, then to the body he had pulled on his lap.

He looked at his hand, made his markings glow and pressed his hand into his chest. Hawke forced his eyes shut and turned his face away, not daring to watch.

Once he pulled back his hand, a slight bulge continued to grow where his fingers had just left the body. For a moment is scared him, like a cancerous growth, but then small knobs of opening red flowers started to form and Brand gasped for air.

Brand's chest heaved and he looked at Fenris with slightly parted lips. Then he smiled “I knew you cared,” he teased, but when his eyes came into focus his expression became one of confusion “But you are- Fenris? How can you be my soul mate?”

“I suppose I cared about you more than the Creators realized.” Fenris spoke, smiling just slightly, Brand respond to it with a weak and lopsided grin.

It felt like they were talking in a language he couldn't understand and Hawke couldn't do much more than look on. He was happy for them, yes, but also unsure about what to do. “You look like you could use a healer.” he finally spoke up.

 


	11. Friend or Foe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loyalty get questioned, secrets start unraveling and the plot slowly thickens. (Like, very slowly.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in between hospital appointments, visits to the clinic and working on my part in [the Black Emporium](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/the_black_emporium), I found the time to work through the drafts for this chapter! Sorry for the wait (and the possibly off characterization ~~I haven't written these characters in a while~~ ) and I hope you enjoy.

They sat in silence as Anders was healing Brand on the other side of the door. Fenris could feel the magic rippling through the area, but kept his expression stern and his gaze on his hands. He never expected to find a soul mate again, let alone  _create_ one. What mess was he getting himself in to? He should know better than this after what happened to the Fog Warriors. No one would be safe with him.

“Fenris,” Hawke felt almost bad for speaking up at the way the elf jumped at his name “I know you're worried, but... Anders is a capable healer. He will be okay.”

Fenris answered with a quiet nod, now looking straight at the door instead of Hawke's direction. He just couldn't take his eyes away. The magic hadn't subdued. He hadn't realized that there would be this much to heal... Brand had been trying so hard to walk as they dragged him there, never ceasing his playful quips at Hawke's rambling until they had reached the healer and Brand collapsed.

Hawke had to gather his courage before he dared to speak again. “Your arm isn't looking too good, Fenris. Maybe, when Anders is done with Brand, he could take a look at you, too.” he said, but Fenris just wordlessly shook his head.

No magic would ever touch him again.

 

His eyes lit up when the door opened, but dulled immediately when the man walking through the door wasn't brand. Anders seemed almost hurt by the reaction, but soon masked that hurt beneath his suspicion. “What did you do?”

Fenris shot up from his sitting position defensively, his brows pressed together in a frown of frustration “What did  _I_ do? I did nothing. Did something happen?”

Anders made an almost theatrical gesture of throwing up his hands “I wouldn't know, you are the one who put  _lyrium_ in his chest. Really, Fenris, it's a miracle you have survived with it like you did, but this is-”

“It's lyrium?”

Both men had almost forgotten Hawke was there until they heard his voice and Fenris' eyes shifted between both men in what could almost be read as panic. Which was... ridiculous, Anders thought, that man had barely shown any emotions since they met.

“I... assumed you would have found out by now.” Fenris admit, his voice didn't sound as steady as it normally did as he looked at the floor. For a moment, Anders was confused again. “So did I.” Anders admit, trying to regain eye contact. Fenris' fist was shaking close to his hip, but he didn't seem to come into action.

Hawke looked at Anders questioningly, then at Fenris “The slavers looking for marked elves that Isabela said took Brand... they were searching for you?”

Took? Was that how they were going to call it now? Fenris seemed ready to snap at any moment, but froze up as soon as his eyes met Hawke's. Icy blue. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't- His tanned complexion started turning sickly pale and the expression of the two men with him turned from hostile to worried, but Fenris didn't see it.

“Fenris?” Hawke called out to him, but Fenris heard someone else's voice instead. Rough and demanding. “Fenris!” the voice said again and he didn't dare to move. “Come back to me.” No!

 

He was glowing with the power of lyrium before he realized it, his arms thrusting forward to defend himself. The piercing vines and the sharp tips of his fingers were deflected by a magical barrier just before they could collide with Danarius and Fenris howled in frustration.

With a swift turn, he moved to attack the mage stopping him, but he was stopped by another barrier this time, one made out of muscle and flesh. There was blood where the vines had pierced his muscular arms. Danarius had jumped in front of this man? Why?

No. Danarius would never throw his life away for anyone else. Fenris' expression changed again, and his vision changed with it, as if waking up from a nightmare.

“Hawke...” he breathe “I did not mean to hurt you. Are you alright?”

Hawke laughed, despite everything. He reached for Fenris, but stopped himself mid-movement and shrugged instead of the other comforting gesture he had planned. “Nothing a good healer can't heal.”

“I'm alright too, thanks for asking.” Anders huffed, but most aggression he had felt before was gone. He felt almost bad for Fenris. Almost. Whatever he had been through to make him like this must have been rough... _But it is still no reason to condemn you and your fellow mages._ Justice protested, refueling Anders' frustration.

 

Anders took Hawke with him and made him sit on one of the fold-up beds. Fenris was resting at Brand's side, leaving them alone together. They hesitantly met eyes and Hawke said “Fancy seeing you here.” with a sheepish smile. Anders chuckled in response, pressing his glowing hands against his wounded arm. “It's too bad that I only see you around when one of us is in trouble.”

Hawke's expression softened into a warm smile and an amused huff escaped through his nose. This was nice. “You should really come to the Hanged Man sometimes.” he offered.

“I might.” Anders replied, his hand lingering on Hawke's broad arm just a little longer than necessary and his smile mirroring his. The smile faltered slightly when he glanced over to the elves at the other side of his clinic. Fenris was kneeling next to the low bed Brand was sleeping on, his hand tightly holding on to the other's. “Will they be there too?”

“Possibly.” Hawke sighed “I personally hope they will.”

Anders nod and slowly let go of his healed arm. He kept his eyes on Fenris as Hawke tried different movements with his arm. “He might be dangerous, Hawke.” he kept his voice low so the elf wouldn't hear.

Hawke frowned, looking over at him again “Fenris?” he asked “Fenris is my friend. He's not dangerous.” - “He would have killed you if I hadn't been there.” - “He was scared!”

Fenris looked up at Hawke's last words and glanced over his shoulder. He was nearly glaring, but there was no other indication that he had heard anything. His eyes were directed back at Brand as soon as he stirred. “You will be alright.” he promised “I am right here.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I can handle this.” Hawke concluded, testing his arm joints “Besides, if the people who did this to Brand are after Fenris, I can't abandon him. He needs me.”

Anders reached to rest a hand on his shoulder “You can't help everyone, Hawke.”

“I helped you. So did Fenris. And he deserves to be helped, too.”

Those words shut him up and Anders released a sigh they had properly gotten through to him. “You are right,” he admit “I was being selfish. Just... be careful. And take me with you, to the Deep Roads. I know the way.”

 

Brand slowly stirred awake, gasping for air. This was not their ship. The ship... His chest heaved and his hand felt clammy. He softly squeezed, then gave a weak smirk when the figure next to him sprung up and white locks came into his vision.

“So what about Isabela?” he asked, after a long silence and a lot of exchanges looks. By the way Fenris stopped smiling and frowned, Brand already knew “She didn' come for me, did she?”

Fenris felt something go through him, an emotion so strong that it went through their soul bond. Despite the fact that he was still smiling, chuckling even, Brand was devastated. _Why?_ “She actually did.” he lied “Isabela thought it would be the best to split up to find you. She has been searching for you... everywhere. I was just the first one to find me.”

Brand laughed out loud, his eyes squinting in pain as it made his chest heave “I would almost believe you're tellin' the truth.”

“It is the truth.” Fenris insist, and he watched as Brand's expression became less sure and more hopeful. “Really?”

Fenris nod. “I bet she will be here as soon as the word reaches her.”

 


End file.
